A Bundle of Burning Roses
by Zinderblikt
Summary: A collection of Rosewick one-shots. Its purpose: to explore this relationship in all its forms and potential so that the world may see its true glory. Hail crack ship!
1. A Bundle of Burning Roses

A Bundle of Burning Roses

Notes

Some things you might want to know while reading.

1\. My headcannon has always been that Roman is twenty-two at the beginning of the series, putting him seven years ahead of Ruby. I will usually stick to this formula unless stated otherwise, so you can use it to extrapolate their relative ages in each fic.

2\. Most of these one-shots are retooled versions of much longer ideas I've had over my shipping career. Feel free to let me know if you'd like to see a sequel one-shot or multi-chapter fic based on any of these. No promises, but I'd like to hear which ideas you think are worth expanding upon.

3\. I like to include a lot of hidden jokes, references, and symbolism in my works. Let me know if you find any of them.

4\. I'm allergic to fluff. Expect most of what I write to have a creepy or dark edge to it and not be very explicitly romantic. Weird thing to put right before a pairing series, isn't it?

Now on with the show

For the satisfaction of your heart's desires, I hereby set out to create the definitive collection of one-shots featuring our favorite study-in-contrasts pairing: Rosewick. Each will be independent of the others, with some exceptions, so expect a variety of settings, themes, and moods. Bear in mind that I have other obligations so updates will be sporadic at times, but I aim to write twelve stories before I consider this truly complete. That's all for the introduction, so you may head to the next chapter if you wish. I will now present, for those who wish to know and because there was nowhere else to put it, my defense of, and explanation for, the S.S. Rosewick.

The first complaint to usually be raised against this relationship is the character's relative age and the associated cultural significance. However, this complaint only holds up if the relationship is explicitly physical. Platonic love _does_ still exist right? Besides, Roman might not be that much older (I always assumed him to be twenty-two for some reason) and Ruby will hit maritable age eventually. My own parents are eleven years apart so it wouldn't seem an odd match up to me, at least on this level. I'm fairly certain this issue has been beaten to death already, so I don't want to waste any more time on it.

The second and more substantial complaint is the ethical disparity between the two. Many people feel that, since Roman is far from a good person, a relationship between them would be extremely unlikely, and probably end poorly. Well they're right, and that's what makes it so fun! You see, as they are, it would be impossible for Roman and Ruby to be reconciled to the other's way of life. This means that, in order to ship them sensibly, one or both of them must undergo some degree of character development. The popular ships are usually easy: get them alone, mention something about 'feelings', and they'll be making out in no time. Rosewick, on the other hand, takes work and imagination. Figuring out how to take these two from a state of complete dissonance to one of mutual affection is a daunting task. It requires the shipper to get creative, dream up headcanons, and expand the world of RWBY. Due to its inherently complex nature, this ship is a breeding ground for interesting stories and theories.

On a related note, I'd like to discuss the name of this ship for a moment. The RWBY fandom is somewhat notable for the colorful names they ascribe to ships. In a world full of names like Eclipse and Lancaster, Rosewick stands out as seemingly uninspired, simply being the character's surnames squished together. However, upon further consideration this creates an interesting image. A wick is the material of a candle that allows it to produce light. Though it might not realistically produce the same effect, it's quite possible to imagine a rose being used as such. This forms an excellent visual analogy for their relationship. The rose's beauty does no good in darkness, neither is there anything left to see once it is burned. In order to appreciate the beauty of the rose, the darkness must be endured until another light can be found. In order to protect oneself from the darkness that beauty must be sacrificed. If Roman is right about the world not caring, then Ruby will need to sacrifice her ideals in order to survive. If Ruby is right in hoping for the world, then Roman needs to forgo his selfishness and learn to live as part of society. Though it may not have been intended as such, this title seems quite inspired once you think about it.

Most of the people I've seen who ship this do so with the knowledge that it isn't, and probably never will be, canon. Though I don't speak for everyone, I don't care if their relationship is friendly or familial, romantic or academic, antagonistic or contentious; I simply want to see more of their character dynamic.


	2. Cookie Cutter

Cookie Cutter

What a fine evening! The rain did nothing to dampen Torchwick's mood as he leisurely strolled down the quiet streets of Patch, his umbrella in one hand and his cane tapping rhythmically on the sidewalk with the other. Honestly, he felt as if he could burst into song, just like in one of those cheesy movies he'd snuck into. After years of pickpocketing, illegal gambling, low-level robberies, and skirmishes with the local gangs, not only was he the undisputed, albeit unofficial, boss of the streets, but he'd been able to finish upgrading Melodic Cudgel. As his test had just proven, both he and it were now on par with the best of Signal Academy. Tomorrow, it was finally time to leave this dump and hit the big time. Where to celebrate? He looked around and went through a mental list of places he could get to before closing. Unfortunately, only two fit the bill: Brad's and Stella's. Brad's had good ice cream, and was a pretty fancy place, but Torchwick found the owner quite unpleasant. Stella's wasn't exactly the grand departure he'd like, but at least the cookies weren't bad.

Stella's was a quaint little place, built out of an old barn that hadn't been torn down yet for some reason. It had all the trappings of a family kitchen, from the sappy slogans hanging on the walls, to the hand-made coasters, and somehow, no matter when you came in, it always smelled like fresh cookies. Torchwick threw open the large double doors, briefly gaining everyone's attention before the few people present stuffed their remaining meals into their face and hurried out behind him. Stella, or at least that's who he'd always assumed the lady at the counter was, started shivering slightly as he approached. He snickered a bit. Small town life was not without its charms.

"I'll have your best turkey sandwich and three of whatever that smell is." He announced, holding out a handful of lien. Stella stared at his hand, apparently not understanding the gesture. "On the house then?" With a quick, dramatic flourish he stuck the money back in his pocket. "Thanks!" She stared after him in helpless misery while he picked a seat in one of the booths.

His order was brought out almost immediately. The sandwich was, well, exactly what you'd expect a sandwich to be: meat and some vegetables smashed between two pieces of bread. The cookies, on the other hand, were one of his favorites: red velvet and chocolate chip. As he was trying to decide which to start with, he heard an odd squeaking sound come from directly behind him. Considering he'd just seen everyone leave, this didn't alarm him, but he was still curious as to what it could be. The sound repeated itself a few more times, and it was something he distinctly recognized: whimpering. When he turned around he didn't see anyone, but after leaning over the side he found a black and red haired girl in a little black dress, maybe eleven years old, curled in a ball, crying in her sleep. Oh, what to do? Helping people wasn't really his thing, but if he didn't at least wake her up, her crying would ruin his otherwise perfect evening.

"Hey," he spoke gently, giving her a slight nudge, "wake up."

She jolted awake, bolting out of her seat to hide under the table. Slowly, silver eyes poked their way out, which even Torchwick had to admit were adorable, and calmed down after seeing that he wasn't whatever demon plagued her nightmares. He found himself smiling and, feeling a sudden surge of generosity, offered her a cookie off his plate. She gave him a look somewhere in between a puppy and a wolf, and snatched, not one, but all three cookies and crammed them in her mouth at once.

"Huh," he drolled, his mood now quite sour, "karma's a b-"

"Sir!" Stella interrupted, having come over to the table while he was busy getting suckered, "uh, we're getting ready to close. Would you like a bag?"

"Eh, keep it." He brushed her off and started to leave, but found the little cookie thief following him to the door. "What? You want something else?" She made little squeaking noises that might have been attempts at words, nervously glancing between his feet and his hat, but mostly lingering on the umbrella he was carrying.

"You needn't trouble yourself." Stella, once again, interrupted, "I'm taking her home after work. She lives next door."

"Well good," he focused on the girl, "I'm glad to know someone's taking care of you. What's your friend's name?"

"Uh..." she looked back and forth between the two grown-ups, "um..." Stella gave her the most pleading, desperate look, "what?"

The look of crushing failure on Stella's face was just the thing he needed to lift his spirits. In fact, he was feeling almost as good going out as he had been coming in. At least, until he noticed another pair of footsteps had followed him through the door. Sure enough, the girl was right behind him, trying to stay under the protection of his umbrella.

"Sorry," she mumbled, folding her hands in front of her mouth, "I didn't want to get caught in the rain again."

"You are _not_ following me home!" Torchwick practically snarled.

"Just a little bit... please?"

"Sheesh," he muttered bitterly, "fine."

It had gotten quite dark while they were in the restaurant, and, due to Patch not having many street lights, the occasional splashing sound was often the only indication that the girl was still following him. So it came as quite a shock when she suddenly darted in front and started spinning him around. He was just about to club her over the head when he saw, or rather heard, her cause for alarm. Someone was running towards them. He shifted his grip on Melodic Cudgel ever so slightly from his casual walking position to a loose battle stance. The sound stopped a short ways in front of them. Torchwick could just piece together the outline of a tattered cape and what looked like a loose garment in the stranger's hand.

"Who are you?" A somewhat raspy male voice spoke.

"Who's asking?"

"I'm looking for someone," the voice urged, filled with worry, "a little girl with red and black hair and silver eyes. Wearing a black dress. Have you seen her?"

"I can hardly see _you_!" Torchwick snapped, both in genuine irritation and to buy himself some time. There was no mistaking a description like that, and Torchwick really wanted to be rid of this kid. But, from the moment the man started talking until right now, the girl was clinging to the back of his coat, shaking. With this and the state he found her in, his mind was starting to paint a picture. Part of him wanted to think it was nothing more than a family squabble. This man was probably her father, and the girl ran away because she broke a window or something and didn't want to pay for it. Another part of him was going through stories he'd heard on the news. Terrible things that even a guy like him didn't want to believe existed. Oh, what was he supposed to do with this girl?

"But yeah," he began to collect himself, "I think I saw someone a while ago. She ran into an alley around the corner." He heard racing footsteps splash across the street and away from them. The girl let out an audible sigh, leaning against his back for support.

"Thank you."

"Nothing's free kid," he ripped her off, using his cane to hoist her by the shoulder in front of him, "Give me a reason not to drag you back to that guy."

"Ow! Please, I don't want to go back."

"That's not a reason."

"I can't! I can't go back!"

"That's still not a reason."

"Please..." her voice began to break, _"please!"_

"Hah... you know, you're not making this very easy for me." He wanted to cart her off then and there, but, against his better judgment, he was getting invested in this little pest. Perhaps he'd seen a little of himself in those greedy silver eyes. Maybe it was his own desperate will ringing in her voice. A mad plan was forming in his head, one that would require a great deal of effort and sacrifice but could yield the biggest payoff of his career. "Tell you what," he set her down, "I can give you a reason. See, I'm going to the big city tomorrow to expand my business and... check in on some old friends. I might be able to take you along, if you're willing to work."

"I... can? Yes, I am!"

"Then I'll be upfront with you: I'm a thief, and that's what I'll be teaching you. Life will be hard, you'll get hurt, and you won't have any friends. You'll take things that don't belong to you, and hurt people who don't deserve it. Are you willing to learn that?"

"My..." The darkness made it impossible to read her face, but from the way her silhouette shifted back and forth he could guess how conflicted she was. "What happens if I'm not?"

"I take you back to whoever was looking for you, unless you can give me a good reason not to." This was a game he had to play carefully. He'd been shown a long time ago how to engender loyalty through guilt and fear, but he also knew from experience that those kinds of methods bred betrayal. If he was going to make a pawn out of her, she had to owe and fear him, but also appreciate and respect him. Right now, she could keep talking, give up, agree, or bolt. Which response she chose would inform how he approached her in the future.

"What if... I can't handle it? What do you expect me to be?"

"Like I said, this isn't an easy business. There are no second chances and I won't go easy on you. But, I'll do my best to make sure you succeed. Don't worry, I won't be sending you to rob banks until you're a little older. If you can be determined, obedient, and a little ruthless, I'll take care of the rest."

She didn't speak again for a long moment. When she did, her voice came out clear and even a little enthusiastic, "I can do it! I'm willing. I'll be worth your time."

"Good choice, now let's get you out of this blasted rain."

She skipped along beside him all the way home. After showing her where she'd be sleeping, there was just one more thing to get straightened out, "So what am I going to call you kid?"

"Oh. Uh... anything's fine really."

"Hmm, well as long as you're going to be a thief I'll name you after your first heist. How does Red Velvet strike you?"

"Hmm? Oh- HA HA HA HA! They _were_ really good. I like it."

"I'm Roman Torchwick, nice to meet you Red." She positively beamed at him. He had to admit she had a nice smile. Maybe being nice to her wouldn't be so hard after all. "Well, it's been an eventful evening. Get some rest."

* * *

 **Author's Note: This is actually a role-swap of my imagined meeting between Roman and Neo. For those who are curious, had he chosen to go to Brad's, Neo would have followed him in. The owner picks a fight with Torchwick and Neo murders him with a spoon, smiling like she expects some kind of reward. Torchwick is impressed by her innate killing talent, and gets her an ice cream, already planning to turn her into his body-guard.**

 **If you're curious what becomes of Neo, or what's up with Ruby's family, don't worry, I'm almost definitely going to continue this. I was going to wait to publish this until I had its sequel completed, but I just couldn't let Rosewick month go by without doing something. So, until my next entry is complete, hail crack ship!**


	3. Just a Moment

Just a Moment

* * *

One of the upsides of being a nobody on the street is that hardly anyone gives a shit about you. Unfortunately, that's also it's downside. The few shits who do give a shit generally aren't the kind of shit you want to deal with. These are the kinds of thoughts that float through the young Roman's mind as a couple goons in goofy red shades back him into a corner.

"Look kid," one sneered, "we're not trying to make trouble. Yet. Just give us what we came for and we'll walk away."

"I gave you what you came for a few days ago. Per our arrangement, what I steal and who I steal from on _my_ turf is my business." He lit himself a cigarette. It's hard to look terrified when your smoking a cigarette. "And that's if I had this thing you've been going on about. Which I-AGH! HACK! Haaa-don't." That's mostly because you can hardly concentrate on anything besides the surface layer of your throat being burned away. At least it looked better than biting his lip.

"Alright twerp," they boxed him in, blocking any escape, "you've got until you black out to say something."

"Aw shit."

* * *

Who built these streets anyway? Why did they make them so confusing? All the buildings look the same and none of the streets go anywhere. Or at least, that's what it felt like for Ruby, running from one corner to the next trying to find where she'd started from. At first it was an adventure, like something mommy would've told her before bed, but now it was getting dark and scary. She didn't want to be out here much longer.

This place looked a bit more familiar didn't it? Or at least less unfamiliar. There was a red building on her left like that when she decided to wander off. All she had to do now was get to the other side of the block, and she'd be where she started from. Surely that was where Uncle Qrow would be waiting. She'd just squeeze through that little crack between the buildings.

All of a sudden, a weird noise started coming from just ahead of her, past a turn in the path. It went: smack smack! What if it was a monster? A wolf, smacking its lips, waiting for little girls to pass by without their parents. She knew how this stuff worked, mommy told her all about it before bed. But... if she went back she'd be lost again. Then it would get dark, and even worse things would find her. She'd just have to walk past it. As long as she didn't do a thing it said, she'd be fine.

* * *

Torchwick was seriously considering giving up now. After another minute he'd probably lose his charming face and speak with a lisp for the rest of his life. It was just some quick cash anyway. Then, something happened. He heard the guy who was standing watch say: "Hey, scram! Get lost kid." There was a whining sound, he ran towards it and the one punching him got distracted.

A moment's weakness was all it took to kindle the fire in him again. He launched himself forward, ramming his head straight into the thug's stomach. With a moment to breath, he reached for a lead pipe he kept lying around for emergencies. The one who ran turned around just in time to see his partner take a full blow to the head. As he rushed back, Torchwick jumped aside and aimed a strike at his legs. It hit, shattering a kneecap. Another strike knocked him out cold.

For a moment he just stood there, catching his breath and making sure his face was still in one piece. Every bit of it seemed to be accounted for, if the pain was anything to go by. And his arms felt like he'd pulled a muscle swinging so hard too. And that toenail he broke the other day was smarting again. Everything hurt.

"That..." a tiny voice to the side reminded him someone else was still here. "That was so cool! You were all WOOSH-WOOSH and then: WHACK!" In her exuberance the girl nearly knocked herself over. Roman had no idea how to feel right then. He'd never had someone look at him the way this girl did now. "It was _sooo_ awesome!"

"No problem kid." He smirked, and barely even noticed the spike of pain. "Nothing I can't handle."

Before she could gush any more, another voice called out from the streets, "RUBY!"

"I'M OVER HERE!" The girl was distracted for a moment, and Roman took that as his cue to leave. Wouldn't do to be caught surrounded by unconscious bodies after all. Even if her parents didn't assume he was dangerous, they'd definitely make him wait for the police. Nope, wouldn't do at all. He found a nice, comfy pile of garbage nobody was likely to find him in and went out like a light.

* * *

Ruby lay quietly in her room that night, dreaming.

She stood in a sunlit field. Before her was a bundle of roses, each in a different color. Looking past them, she saw that there were many other flowers growing around her, every kind that could be imagined. Not a single pair were alike. Even when she saw two of the same color and type, she just felt that they were unique somehow. She couldn't explain it, but then again, she didn't need too. Her joy bubbled through her into laughter as she flitted through the flowerbed with the butterflies.

But without warning, something about the dream changed. The sun wasn't shining. Silence blanketed the field. A single rose wilted and turned black. Following it, the surrounding flowers blackened and rotted. A wave of decay swept across the land, threatening to engulf Ruby. She ran. Quick as a bullet she sped through the garden, only to find herself cut off at every turn. She stood in a small patch of still living flowers, trying in vain to shield them with her cloak. But all she could do was watch helplessly as they rotted around her feet. Everywhere she looked to, she found the same things. Death and silence. She collapsed into tears.

But she wasn't alone. A presence washed over her, chasing away the void. It was the ginger boy. He took her by the hand and led her over to the first wilted rose. Plucking it by the stem, he shook it over her palm. Seeds fell out. Ruby took in a breath and scattered them to the wind. Tears poured from her eyes as they fell, each sprouting new life and colour back into the world. As she looked back, the boy tossed her rose into her hands before vanishing into the wind. Taking heart from this gift, she skipped through the foul, rotten garden, bringing life everywhere she touched.

* * *

Torchwick woke the next morning with what he imagined a hangover would feel like. He groaned, stretched, regretted it, and got himself out of the dumpster he'd crawled into. The alley looked just like it did every morning: garbage cans here, garbage dumpsters there, just plain garbage everywhere else. No goons, no little girls, no police tape; almost like the night before didn't happen at all. For a second of morning optimism he let himself think there wouldn't be any repercussions whatsoever.

"Hey!" That was not a good 'hey.' Nothing nice ever follows that kind of 'hey.' And the man giving it was not the sort you'd expect nice things from in the first place. He was tall, broad, gruff, and most definitely in need of a shave. That and someone to tell him that bow ties have been out of style since, like, forever.

"One of Junior's goons? I'm already paid up, and whatever you're looking for, it's not here."

"First, you're talking to the man himself. Second," Junior strode over, towering above Roman, "I heard you messed up a couple of my boys."

"...I didn't kill them."

"Yeah, but you did quite a number on them. Honestly, I'm not sure if I should be impressed or disappointed." He pulled up a garbage can for a seat. "They've given me their story already. Now I want to hear yours."

"Well... actually I don't know a lot. These official looking guys came running through my alley with their arms full of boxes. Then one of them tripped and a bunch of shiny, new, valuable canisters started spilling out. So I snatched a few. A while later, those goons showed up and started getting in my face about it. I offered to make a deal, but negotiations went a little south when they started pounding my face in. I counter-offered with a lead pipe. If that's a problem, I'm sure I can find a way to pay you back."

"Nah, any business like this is supposed to go through me. If you didn't do it I would've. You want a deal then? Start talking."

"Well, I was thinking..." he started going through his planned sales pitch, but for some reason he was getting second thoughts. This was his chance to make a big score, finally have enough bread to last a few months instead of scraping by day by day, and maybe even get in good graces with the boss. So why was he hesitating? "Actually, I've been thinking they might not be for sale anymore."

"Don't get cute with me." He leaned forward, getting right in Torchwick's face. "I know every fence in this city. If you try to sell it behind my back, I'll see that you starve in a gutter."

"Nah, I was thinking about keeping them for decoration. Make this place a bit more homey, you know?"

"Right, you just do that." Junior got up to leave, dusting the filth off his clothes. "But remember, if I hear anything about some kid trying to sell huntsman gear you're finished."

That felt good. Stupid, but so good. The stuff in those canisters wasn't full-fledged gear yet, just parts. Parts he barely understood and had no idea how to turn into anything. If he couldn't figure them out he really would have to use them as decoration; no way Junior was cutting him a deal after this. But if he could manage it? His days of answering to people like Junior, living off garbage, and being nothing but discarded scrap in an alley would be over. After all, if a distracting little girl and a metal pipe could take him this far, how much further could he go with some real gear? Now that he knew what it was like to be somebody, he had no intention of giving it up. Nothing would take this feeling away. Nothing.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Kept you waiting, huh? All... (checking statistics)... eighteen of you, at the time of my writing this. Sorry about that, life got crazy.**

 **Anyway, about the story. Man, this was a long time in the making. I think I rewrote this eight times over the last couple years, changing around characters, events, concepts, and all that cal. That must mean it's really good now, right? Originally I was going to use some OCs of mine for the role of the crime lord Roman answers to, but then I realized it was a perfect place to start including Junior. Isn't it funny that these two were only on screen together for, like, five seconds and have never even shared a dialogue scene, yet almost everyone immediately assumed there was a ton of backstory between them, even after it was stated otherwise? I'm not sure why that is, but I support it wholeheartedly.**

 **In other news, I just noticed that Rosewick Week got cancelled a few days ago. That was really sad to hear, and it reminded me how many other things have been changing around this fandom lately. It's one of the reasons I specifically wanted to finish this idea, because even though things change it's the feelings they leave behind in the moment that stay with us, change us, and take us into the future. So thanks for the memories honorable shipper! I dedicate this story to you.**

 **Safe travels everyone. Hail crack ship!**


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